Winter's Cry
by Chocolate Covered Icicles
Summary: AU. Spending the holidays with Mrs. Figg isn't young Harry's idea of a good time. But when he meets someone from his unknown past... Harry may just get what he's always wanted. Not Slash.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I wrote this a LONG time ago. Let me know if you think I should continue. Winter's Cry 

"BOY! Get out here this instant!"

A small, messy-haired boy named Harry Potter was very suddenly, if not rudely, awakened from his sleep. He had received less sleep than usual the night before and was not particularly in the mood to deal with his beast of an uncle, Vernon Dursley.

The Dursleys were Harry's only living relatives, much to the chagrin of both involving parties. The Dursleys prided themselves on being the prime example for normalcy and Harry was just the opposite. Not that Harry cared about this much; he was used to it by now. But he thought it would be nice for someone else—anyone—to actually get to know him for himself before automatically classifying him as 'strange', 'abnormal', or a 'freak'.

Harry sniffled softly as he moved to open the door of his cramped cupboard. The cold of winter had really done its job; chills, fever, and aching limbs had plagued him for many days now. Not that the Dursleys cared about the ailment that was draining their small nephew, they were too preoccupied with this morning's events. In fact, the Dursleys would probably jump for joy if Harry keeled over right at that very moment.

School didn't offer Harry much sanctuary either, but on Christmas Holidays such as this, he profusely wished he were anywhere but at Number Four Privet Drive. The monotonous droning of his teacher and relentless teasing seemed a happy alternative. This year Harry's wish had been granted to an extent, but not in a way that made the emerald-eyed boy much happier. He was to go to Mrs. Figg's, a dull, older lady whose house smelled of cabbage and had far too many cats in Harry's opinion. He knew he'd end up as bored as ever, even if it was only for three days.

"**BOY! _NOW!"_**

Harry sighed; walking sluggishly from his cramped cupboard to the kitchen. Clad in severely oversized pants and a shirt that literally looked as if it were eating him alive, he mentally braced himself for whatever his uncle had to say. Vernon Dursley wasn't known for having polite conversations or keeping his temper, though especially not with Harry. It was because of this that Harry often fantasized about what his parents were like—certainly much more kind and accepting—and often wished he were able to remember them.

When Harry reached the kitchen, he noticed that everyone was already present. Aunt Petunia stood with her abnormally long neck craned over the stove trying to cook the last of the bacon, looking quite cheerful. Dudley was seated at the table, devouring his food at a rapid pace that would make anyone else explode. Harry swore there would be a day when his humongous cousin wouldn't be able to fit through the front door.

Harry grudgingly moved his eyes to where Uncle Vernon sat reading the morning paper. Much to his relief, the mustached man didn't seem to be in as bad of a mood he previously feared. There was an air of unusual calmness in the room that Harry hoped would last. It took Uncle Vernon a few moments to acknowledge his nephew's presence and put down the paper that so often times had very few things of any real interest to report.

Brilliant emerald eyes locked with the larger man's glaring beady ones. "_We're _leaving within the hour and will be back within the week." Harry nodded slowly, suppressing a sneeze with his oversized sleeve. He already knew this. "If _you_ do anything—_abnormal_—or cause _any grief_ for Mrs. Figg, you'll wish you'd never been born, boy." The words were said in such a deadly calm way, it made Harry recoil slightly and shiver.

"Y—yes, Uncle Vernon," the messy-haired child whispered softly.

A fake smile appeared across the man's lips as he drew his large head closer to his nephew. "_Good,_" he spat, showering Harry with some flyaway spit. "You **will not** embarrass _my_ family." Uncle Vernon glared once again before positioning himself back into his seat correctly, then jabbed at a pile of bacon Aunt Petunia had slipped onto his plate during the exchange.

Harry gulped before scampering back to his cupboard—he had no appetite at the moment. He wouldn't be allowed much to eat if he did, anyway. Uncle Vernon's threat was obvious to Harry, and it was one he'd heard a thousand times before. He was always doing _freakish_ things.

Running a hand threw his already messy hair; Harry packed what little he had. He knew this really wasn't how 'normal' families operated and had often wondered why his parents had to die in that stupid car crash eight years ago. He wouldn't have to sleep in a cupboard full of spiders, wear clothes ten times to big for him, and eat only scrapes at meals. No one would ever know he had been there…or existed…

Harry sighed, closing his eyes.

He really hated the holidays.

"**BOY!"**

Harry coughed throatily as he made his way to the kitchen once more. But he stopped abruptly midway, as Uncle Vernon was standing right beside the front door with what looked to be a very large, chocolate cake. Looking at it made Harry slightly queasy, he shifted from foot to foot trying hard to hide his discomfort.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

The beady-eyed man sneered unpleasantly. "Petunia made this for Mrs. Figg, make sure she receives it," he said, shoving the chocolaty mess at the small boy in front of him. Harry gripped tight, his arms quaking.

The larger man seemed to not notice this. "She's expecting you any time now. Just walk over…We're leaving shortly." He gave Harry a menacing look. "And remember, NO FUNNYBUISSNESS!" He stalked off then, retreating upstairs to help Dudley get his things in order.

When Harry finally found a way to balance both his bag and the huge cake, he set off down the street without so much as a goodbye. He knew he had to hurry to his destination because both the weight of the objects in hand, and the chill of the winter air were making the emerald-eyed boy feel worse than usual. His shivers were rapidly turning into straight-out convulsions and he had the strong urge to sneeze. Harry hated to think what would happen if he dropped the messy dessert all over the pristine street. His stomach lurched horribly for a second, closing his eyes to stop the spinning.

When he finally endeavored to open his startlingly bright orbs once more, Harry titled his head, confused. As if by magic, he was now standing before Mrs. Figg's front door. That was definitely strange. Shrugging, he rested the cake down gently, rapping lightly on the front door. It didn't don on the small boy how cold it actually was until he saw the steam of his breath wisp past him. He'd been so innately cold lately, anyway. He rubbed his hands together in a futile attempt to gather warmth, wondering if Mrs. Figg would allow him something hot to drink.

The small boy's head jerked up when he heard mumbled voices from inside.

"…_Don't know what Dumbledore was thinking…"_

"…_The poor thing…looks like he hasn't eaten in years!"_

"…_I don't know what I can do…my condition…"_

Without warning, the door squeaked opened. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. Rather than being startled by the movement, Harry found himself instantly gaping at the man now standing before him. He was wearing what looked like an old tattered robe, which might as well have been rags, and appeared more sickly and beaten down than Harry did; though not by much. His sandy hair was freckled by light grays, but his eyes seemed so warm and pleasant…too kind to become any kind of threat to the young boy openly staring up at him.

"Umm," Harry started, flustered. The man's eyes hadn't met his yet. "Hello?"

There was a prolonged moment of silence before the sandy-haired man met Harry's gaze and let out a particularly strangled yelp causing Harry to jump and the cake to go flying.


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note**: Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews! You guys are too awesome! I know my chapters aren't long…I'm hoping they'll progress as the story does. Oh, and Harry is nine, by the way. For me, Remus is a very difficult character to write…so I hope you enjoy.

**_Previously… There was a prolonged moment of silence before the sandy-haired man met Harry's gaze and let out a particularly strangled yelp causing Harry to jump and the cake to go flying._ **

Chapter Two

If it were in Harry's nature to cry at the offset of every unhappy incident, the Dursleys would have beaten the poor boy to death by now. So as the large cake plummeted towards the ground, Harry did little more than shut his eyes. He expected to hear the man before him let out a cry of rage…but the longer Harry stood there staring at the inside of his eyelids, the more the silence seemed to burn his ears.

All Harry heard was a small shuffling of feet before a warm hand came to rest upon his shoulder. The boy almost jumped back, but found he—oddly—didn't feel threatened. A few more excruciating moments passed before emerald eyes peered upwards towards his silent companion and what he found gave him a small jolt.

The man was not angry…but rather smiling at him…and, in the hand that currently wasn't lying comfortingly upon his shoulder, was the cake. Harry forgot his shyness for a moment and bluntly asked, "_How_…?"

The dangerously thin man chuckled a bit before finally stepping away from the small boy. "I'm sorry," he said, his eyes shining kindly. "I'm afraid we've given each other a scare. I hadn't expected anyone to be standing just outside the door." He hesitated briefly before motioning towards Mrs. Figg's abode. "Please, come in. Arabella had told me you would be coming…Harry."

Harry smiled awkwardly; still somewhat bewildered and aware his question hadn't been answered. "Pleased to meet you…er—"

"Remus Lupin," said the man, interjecting politely, gently.

Head tilted slightly, Harry stood in quiet confusion. Was this man being…_kind _to him? Harry had rarely met anyone who didn't treat him with unguarded hostility or blatant disinterest. Strange as it was, Harry wasn't sure how to react.

With a snuffled sneeze, Harry took a small step towards the door, and then turned to look up at Remus. "Umm. My aunt made the cake for Mrs. Figg. Thanks for catching it."

Remus smiled down at the messy-haired boy. "No problem, Harry. Now, why don't we go inside and have a seat? It's awfully cold out here."

_You have no idea, sir._

Harry wasted no time darting inside—his face and hands felt numb. His oversized clothes did little to protect against the elements and his illness was doing nothing to help the situation, either. Though, he immediately wrinkled his nose when he crossed the threshold. The house's odor always set Harry a little ill at ease. Old lady and cats were definitely not his preference. The only difference Harry could note was the very slight smell of pine from the small Christmas tree in the corner of the living room.

He shivered silently while shooing a few meowing cats out of his path towards the sofa. Harry sat down tentatively, keeping one brilliant orb on the kind man named Remus who was currently walking off towards the kitchen. Harry wondered vaguely if he should follow, but decided against it when his head started to spin again. Probably from fever, Harry mused.

"Harry?" Remus's light voice came floating from the kitchen. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Harry nodded once before he realized no one could see him. He tried to call out an affirmative answer, but his mouth felt so unbearably dry. Clearing his throat painfully, Harry managed a very croaky, "Yes, please."

Harry gazed around the familiar room silently, slightly relieved to be alone again. Mrs. Figg was nowhere in sight—how did she know this man, Remus? What had they been talking about when he first arrived? Harry couldn't remember having ever heard Mrs. Figg mention Remus…or anyone besides her cats, for that matter. Harry was stuck between weariness and happiness at the prospect of this man's presence. He seemed kind…but Harry was all too used to disappointment.

Never did Harry hope for the best. 

"Harry?"

Without warning, a very irritated Mrs. Figg came barreling into the room. She was still wearing her bedclothes, but there were huge dark circles under her eyes and her hair was all disheveled. Harry blinked, confused. She stared at him for an uncomfortable moment before speaking again.

"When did you get here? Who let you in?" she asked, expression softening a bit.

Harry knitted his brows together. "I—I—"

"I let him in, Arabella," Remus stated, walking over to Harry and handing him his tea. Mrs. Figg looked slightly startled, but said nothing. "I was just on my way out when I bumped into Harry here." He gave Mrs. Figg a sideways glance, hesitated, then sat on the opposite side of the sofa from the emerald-eyed boy.

Mrs. Figg looked pleased and astonished. "So…you've decided to stay then, Remus?"

Remus looked over at Harry for only a fraction of a second, and then smiled into his teacup. "Yes, I have."

"Good," Mrs. Figg said lightly, eying Harry carefully. "I was just about to get cleaned up for the day." Harry thought that was a _really_ great idea.

"I'll be here," Remus said, a little more forcefully. Mrs. Figg glanced at him intensely, and then moved to turn back down the hall.

By this time, Harry was utterly confused. Was this man staying here…because of _him?_ No, but that was entirely impossible. He'd never seen this man before in his life. Besides, Harry knew what he was—a freak. A freak didn't have friends…or family. Uncle Vernon always said so. Perhaps Mrs. Figg didn't think she could handle him on her own anymore—_what lies must his relatives be telling her?_

Remus's voice cut through his thoughts, "…I've never really watched much television. What would you like to watch, Harry?"

Harry turned his head, startled. Unfortunately, as the boy started to form a question, he sneezed, sneezed, and sneezed again.

The man's kind eyes sharpened. He very hesitantly reached a hand out towards the boy, seemed to change his mind at the last second, and simply inched closer. "Are you ill, Harry, or are you allergic to all of these lovely creatures?" Remus asked, smiling to himself. "You do seem a bit pale…"

Expression guarded, Harry wondered briefly why this man would care. He certainly seemed to be having health issues himself; although he was obviously young, Harry noticed Remus had a tired, beaten look about him…as if he was used to disappointment, too. But still, the young boy wasn't sure about what he might say. He knew very well that he was ill…but why did that matter?

Noting Harry's confusion, Remus's face grew more somber. He shakily placed his hand upon Harry's forehead, frowning gently.

Harry didn't breathe nor dare to move an inch. The hand felt so wonderful against his blazing forehead, yet make him shiver at the same time. Harry sighed softly, forgetting he wasn't alone, and closed his eyes.

Remus swallowed hard, audibly. "Harry? How would you like some soup?" The messy-haired boy merely flinched. "Have you been feeling this way long?"

Harry nodded, yes.

Remus was glad at that moment that Harry couldn't see how white his knuckles had turned. "I'll be right back with the soup, Harry. Excuse me," he murmured, removing himself silently from the room, and Harry.

The boy sat in total silence, before reminding himself to breathe again. He really was exhausted…and frustrated. Harry had the distinct feeling that there was something he should know…something tugging at the corner of his mind…an answer…but to _what? _Closing his eyes again, Harry visualized another holiday…not one that had been or would be…but one that was truly impossible—one where he was happy.

-HPHPHPHP-

Harry woke up very slowly. His eyelids too heavy too open, he drifted between awareness. But he could feel someone breathing quietly above him.

A cold, clammy hand touched his face.

"Harry?"

A firm grip on his shoulder, a small shake.

"Harry?"

More voices.

"Here," said the other voice in a hushed whisper. "Put him in the other room."

Harry could feel himself being lifted. Gentle hands grasped him firmly around the legs and back. He wanted to protest, but found he couldn't speak nor open his eyes. He was eventually placed onto a bed, he noticed, and instantly curled into a ball.

"Here," the one voice said. "Drink this, Harry."

Harry felt something slimy being poured down his throat, but didn't resist. He just wanted to sleep.

"Go back to sleep now, Harry…"

Smiling, Harry managed a very drowsy, "Mmm, 'kay."

One voice let out a small chuckle before Harry knew no more.

-HPHPHPHP-

Remus wasn't sure how long he had been sitting beside the small boy, watching him sleep. Feeling as though a muggle car had hit him, he had pulled a small rocking chair in from another room and took watch in it. A loud gurgling sound had come from his stomach—he had only eaten once today—and not wanting to disturb Arabella, he had stayed still.

"Remus? Can I come in?"

Mrs. Figg entered the room slowly, and looked, if possible, worse than earlier. "Remus…Remus, dear, you must get some sleep yourself. Harry will be fine. I know everything is a bit—well, unsettling at the moment. But, Dumbledore assures me that—"

"—Yes, I am aware, Arabella," Remus cut in mildly, glancing at Harry's sleeping form. "How long will his relatives be away?"

Mrs. Figg snorted. "They claimed only a few days—but Merlin only knows. Very stubborn people, the Dursleys—refuse to believe in what is right in front of them." She smiled suddenly, "I'm glad you've finally come to your senses."

Remus chuckled sadly. "How could I not? I'm still worried about my condition—but we'll have to be quick about this. It's only a matter of time before they figure out what we're doing, too."

"Yes, it is," said Mrs. Figg, sighing thoughtfully. "Dumbledore believes we can pull it off…Now, Remus," she smiled, eyes lighting up for only a moment, "allow me to get you some food."

Remus blinked a few times, then stood and walked carefully out the door. He really was famished. "At least allow me to cook."

Mrs. Figg smiled broadly, and quietly shut the door behind her. "All right," she said, turning to follow Remus. "But you have to wear the apron."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note****: Thanks for all the reviews, alerts, adds to favorites! It is very, very much appreciated! I have no classes on Fridays this semester…so I may be able to update more often! Sorry it has been so long…As for any questions regarding the plot, you'll just have to wait and see. I'm an excellent secret keeper ;) Hope you enjoy…I wasn't originally going to make things go in this direction…**

**Chapter 3 **

Harry awoke very slowly. He was unsure of how long he had been lying there…unsure of where he was anymore. He did, however, know that he must have been dreaming. There had been a man who looked very much like him…riding around on a broomstick. Harry remembered having many similar dreams before, but could no longer recall the details. But they had all felt so incredibly _real_.

Uncle Vernon had always told him that imagining—that thinking about all those strange dreams he seemed to have—was forbidden. Some of the dreams though, Harry could not help but dwell upon. Especially those dreams that ended with that eerie green light—the light that gave the small boy a sickening feeling. Harry knew it must somehow be connected to the lightning bolt scar on his forehead and to his parents…but how, he wasn't entirely sure. Harry knew there were lots of things he should know about himself, but had never been told. It was an overwhelming feeling he had from time to time…like when he knocked Dudley's toys over without touching them…like when he had held a conversation with a snake…like when he had first looked at Remus Lupin.

Sometimes, Harry wondered if his parents were just as abnormal as Uncle Vernon claimed they were. That _maybe_…Harry's dreams weren't his imagination at all.

Groaning, he attempted to open his eyes. He was so warm and comfortable, so safe and relaxed—he certainly could not be in his cupboard. _Where…?_

"Harry?"

Emerald eyes were exposed at once. Unfortunately, Harry could see very little without his glasses, and all he could make out was the shape of a man hunched over him. A light voice floated into his ears, "Are you feeling better, Harry?"

Harry wasn't sure—did he feel better? He was certainly weak and thirsty, but his stomach was no longer churning nor was he dizzy. He should probably answer the voice; he didn't want to get into trouble.

He nodded slowly.

The voice chuckled. "I'm glad to hear it."

Painfully slowly, Harry managed to croak, "Glasses?" He instantly felt a familiar, cool hand against his sweaty forehead and his glasses gently being pressed to his face. Harry gazed about the room…_that's_ _right_; he was at Mrs. Figg's.

"You gave us quite a scare," said Remus concernedly and with a slight twitch. He pressed a cold glass of water to the small boy's lips—of which Harry was most appreciative and drank greedily. "Thankfully, your fever broke rather quickly." Harry merely blinked in confusion—utterly unable to understand why the sandy-haired man seemed to…care so much_?_

Remus gave Harry a light, encouraging tap on the arm. "When you're feeling sick, Harry, you shouldn't hesitate to tell someone."

Harry lowered his gaze. Uncle Vernon had always told him to never complain to others, never. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

The gentle man frowned. "You didn't cause any trouble at all. You must have been ill for quite some time, Harry. That's not something you should keep to yourself." Remus' eyes flashed an emotion the emerald-eyed boy could not place and Harry once again felt a strange tug from the corners of his mind. _He knew this man_—_he did!_

Harry made his decision with minimal hesitation. "Who are you?"

Remus frowned, taken aback. "I'm not sure I understand what—"

"—No," the small boy managed quietly. It felt so strange for _him_ to be saying that word to someone, and not the other way around. "Have we met before? I—I feel like…"

The older man seemed to pale as he abruptly backed away from Harry's side. His voice seemed choked, "Harry…do you…remember me?"

The small boy almost answered "yes", but that was not entirely true. There were many instances in the boy's life where things had felt familiar…but he could never remember why. Harry thought that, possibly, he was recalling things before his parents' accident…before the green light.

Remus tentatively put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Harry? I…"

The messy-haired boy scrunched his nose. He was slightly afraid of the man's reaction. What if he was wrong and annoyed the man? He wouldn't be so kind to him anymore…but the answer was there. It really was. "You seem familiar, like I should know who you are."

The sandy-haired man breathed a shaky sigh, and sat down on Harry's bed. "We have met before. I knew your parents…they were my best friends."

It was as if those words lifted a veil over Harry's memories of the man…he was a wolf—but a nice one!—he had read to him before…he had cared about him…he had been a part of his family. "Moony?"

-HPHPHPHP-

Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was generally not a nervous man who questioned his actions. However, when it came to Harry James Potter, Dumbledore was almost never sure he was taking the right course of action. Recent events could not be ignored—and the old man was almost certain that there was only one way.

"Headmaster?"

Dumbledore looked up from his desk to see one of his oldest friends, his eyes twinkling. "Ah, Minerva. The Weasley twins are no doubt the reason you are here again?"

Minerva McGonagall had a very strict look about her, but the small smile that spread across her face was not misplaced. "Actually no, Albus. I was wondering if there was any news from Remus Lupin yet."

It was Dumbledore's turn to smile. "Nothing you couldn't have already told me yourself."

The older lady shook her head. "I told you that he wouldn't be happy with those relatives of his, Albus. I've told you that every time you've sent me there to watch him. He's so thin, Albus. I don't even think they ever told him about his parents—about our world."

The twinkle was gone. "I know, Minerva. I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope you are, too."


	4. Chapter Four

**Author's Note: ** Thanks for the feedback, guys! I'm glad you all enjoyed the Remus-Harry bondingness going on :) …Again, as for questions regarding the plot…you're just going to have to live in suspense.  
This is sort of a choppy chapter, forgive me.

**  
Chapter Four**

Remus Lupin was not one for optimism—though this fact certainly did not damper his spirits to the extent one might suppose. It was entirely true that he had been devastated by the murder of James and Lily Potter, and the betrayal by Sirius Black. In all his years, Remus had never met anyone who had treated him as they had—who treated him as the man and not as the wolf. His years at Hogwarts had been the best of his life—and when that well-balanced, free and careless world had crashed down around him and those he most cared about, he had known there was no going back. He had felt the depths of his soul shiver.

But in the midst of the rising fear, James and Lily had been beyond overjoyed with the prospect of having a child. _Harry_.

Sirius was the obvious choice for Godfather—and by Merlin; Remus had never seen Sirius so…well, _serious_. It did not take long for the tough, motorcycle riding prankster to fall in love with the boy. And it didn't take long for Remus, either. Despite the chaos surrounding him, he had still been happy—he had still felt _warm_.

It was so odd that in one fell swoop, almost everything good in Remus Lupin's life had fallen heartbreakingly apart. He chose to continue on, but he did regret. He remained congenial as ever though, even on the bad days. He might admit that he may have handled things poorly—that by completely dropping out of Harry Potter's life— and the Wizarding World in general—he had done no one a favor.

So when one Albus Dumbledore randomly appeared at his door nearly two weeks ago, he was almost…excited. He had spent many years dwelling on the past, but hoping that one day he would feel a sense of purpose again. He knew that by entering into Harry's life he may put himself at risk—in a number of ways. He wanted Harry to be safe…he wanted Harry to be happy.

He was so small…and obviously mistreated. How could Dumbledore let this happen? The Headmaster said he had his reasons— that it would be safer for the boy to remain with relations. Yet, Harry had been told nothing of his parents…Harry had been told nothing. But he knew something.

There were many things he wished had gone differently—had never happened at all.

Yes, Harry was safe.

But, Harry was not happy.

"…Moony?"

Remus ran a shaking hand through his graying hair. Harry knew who he was—he remembered him. How was this even remotely possible? He had been so young—he had never heard of anything like this, even in the Wizarding world. True, Harry was obviously special…

"I—I'm sorry."

Remus's eyes locked with emeralds. "What?"

The small boy fidgeted, playing with the corner of his blanket. "I upset you…I'm sorry. I just…"

"Harry," Remus said softly as he moved to grab the boy's hand, "don't apologize. I'm simply at a loss…what else do you remember?"

Harry shook his head, eyes turned down towards the hand holding his. "They're more feelings than memories…I know Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia don't always tell me the truth. I can do things… I don't have any distinct memories, really."

"What kind of _things_ are you talking about, Harry?" Remus inquired, a small smile creeping onto his face.

Harry very obviously looked uncomfortable and unwilling to continue with the conversation. He tugged at the blanket harder. "I'm not supposed to talk about—"

"—Harry," Remus interjected softly, "you don't have to be afraid to tell me, even if you think it's strange. I won't be angry with you, I promise."

The messy-haired boy shook his head silently.

Remus knew what he had to do—what he wanted to do. "Harry…would you like to know about your past? About yourself?"

-HPHPHP-

Minerva McGonagall was worried. She had been watching Harry Potter on and off for years. She told Albus what she thought of those relatives of his—hardly giving him a scrap of food or anything else for that matter. She had told the Headmaster time and time again that she thought Harry should be moved to a place within the Wizarding world; to live with someone who would care for him and not treat him like an unwanted pet.

It took much effort on her part to convince Albus to approach Remus Lupin. However, with all of the recent incidents being taken into account—he seemed rather fond of her idea; as if he knew what she was going to say and had already made his decision.

Unfortunately, this did little to soothe the professor's worry. In fact, it seemed to make her even more ill at ease.

McGonagall trusted Albus Dumbledore's judgment—that however, did not mean she agreed with all of his decisions.

"Albus?" she had inquired the previous afternoon. "I wish you would tell me what you know about –"

"—I know, Minerva," the older man stated looking up from behind his spectacles. He sat petting his magnificent phoenix, Fawkes, who was letting out a beautiful sound of contentment. "I received an owl from Remus this morning which may improve or worsen your feelings of uneasiness—would you like to read it?"

_Headmaster,_

_I have decided to consider your offer. I will stay with Harry here until you give me further instruction. I fear yours and Professor McGonagall's worries about Harry's relations are true. They do not care for him properly, though I have found no signs of harsh physical abuse. _

_If certain people are as you fear on the move again, I would like to help._

_I hope all is well._

R.J. Lupin

-HPHPHPHP- 

Harry knew Remus Lupin—Moony—whoever he was, would not lie to him. He also knew that the weird, freakish things he could do were a part of him. What he was not expecting was for these things to be _normal_—for a young wizard, that is.

"Are you sure you haven't got the wrong person?" Harry asked quietly. "I mean, I'm just Harry. Dudley can easily…"

"Harry," Remus said firmly, though with a smile on his face. "I know this may seem unbelievable, but it is true. You are a wizard just like your parents."

Harry furrowed his brow. "What about Molemort? Is he really gone?"

"It's Voldemort," Remus said with a slight grin. Harry had taken the news surprisingly well—almost happily. "And he was defeated that night…but some of us don't believe that he's truly gone forever."

"Is that," Harry started, afraid of his own words, "is that why you're here?"

Remus felt his chest constrict. He reached forward slowly, carefully gathering the boy into a hug. "Yes and no, Harry. Yes and no."


	5. Chapter 5

**I hope you enjoy! Thanks for the feedback 'n such!**

Chapter Five

Harry had originally felt very awkward at being held like this. Remus had gathered him up in his arms, answering every minute question the boy had for hours. When would he get to go to this 'Hogwarts' place? Would there be other witches and wizards who knew no magic starting out? Did he, Harry, have to worry about this Voldemort fellow trying to kill him once more? Had the Dursleys really known about him and his parents all along?

And as time went on, Harry had felt braver and braver. He could finally ask questions…_finally_. The man's embrace was comforting, not suffocating. He wouldn't hurt him, he really wouldn't. Harry felt that Remus wanted to help him, comfort him. He was gentle and straightforward…and honestly cared for him.

And then, the questions Remus dreaded he might ask: "Do I have to stay with the Dursleys until I'm eleven? Why… why didn't you come before now?"

Harry had felt the man tense, and the small, soothing circles Remus had been tracing on the curious boy's arm abruptly stopped. "I cannot answer that yet, Harry. I'm sorry."

Taking the hint, though disappointed, Harry had continued with his previous line of questioning. Remus answered as best as he could, though deterred Harry from a few subjects of which he was not completely sure of himself. One such question included the why of Voldemort's attack on him and his parents.

"I do not know all of the specifics, Harry," he had said, frowning to himself. "But I know someone who does."

Harry crinkled his nose. "The Headmaster of Hogwarts? Dumbly—er—Dumbles—"

"Dumbledore," Remus had interjected smiling. "Yes, he would know."

Harry smiled sheepishly. _Dumbledore_, he thought_…old man with twinkling eyes, wise but secretive._ "But," Harry muttered slowly concentrating hard on his thoughts, "he might not tell me?"

"No, Harry," Remus had said, frowning again and looking at Harry quite curiously, "he might not."

The messy-haired boy had known not to press the subject much further. "What were my parents like at school?"

And so, Remus had held little back on this front. He told Harry of the Marauders and their map ("Though, I do not advise you to sneak out of the castle Harry!" he exclaimed with a slight smile, once he saw the smirk on the boy's face), of Snape and his potions ("He really did snoop too much for his own good…even if James and Sirius were a bit—er—harsh with him."), and of Lily and her books ("Quite brilliant she was…gave your dad a good run for his money.") until one Mssr. Moony was fast asleep , still clutching the small boy in his arms.

Harry had never felt more overloaded in his life—he knew the truth now. He knew that all the 'freakish' stuff he did wasn't freakish at all—he was a wizard and a famous one at that! Even though Remus seemed just as confused as Harry about the _feelings_ he had about people, it hadn't made him afraid like the Dursleys. He now knew that he had once had a family—two very intelligent people (who were not unemployed or alcoholics) who had loved him…who had died for him. He would go to Hogwarts someday…he would be far, far away from the Dursleys—

The boy was pulled quickly out of his thoughts at that. Looking at the older man, who was now snoring ever so softly, he wondered _why_. Why had he been placed in the care of those who hated him? Why hadn't Remus come sooner…and whatever had happened to his dad's friends Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew? Harry had noticed how Remus's face twisted painfully a few times while mentioning them—even though he was trying very hard to hide it.

What about Voldemort? Was he really trying to come back?

So many questions were bursting forth through Harry's mind. He had a right to know about himself, didn't he? He had spent years thinking he was worthless…the Dursley's had been wrong about everything.

Eventually, amidst fantasizing about Hogwarts and the unanswered questions that kept floating through his tired mind, Harry feel asleep in Remus's arms happier, however confounded, than he had ever been in his life. 

**--HP--**

"Harry…Remus…wake up…"

Letting out a small sigh, Harry opened his brilliant eyes to find his face nestled against Remus's chest and Mrs. Figg staring down at him. She looked better than the last he saw her; though there was something quite tight about the smile she was giving the small boy.

"Hello, Harry. Mind helping me wake the old man?" Mrs. Figg asked, gesturing towards Remus who was still snoring softly.

Harry nodded, but he did not want to make Remus angry. _Stop it, Harry. You know he wouldn't mind…_Hand shaking ever so slightly; he tentatively shook the sleeping man's arm, "Remus?"

The sandy-haired man let out a small snort and muttered something that distinctively sounded like 'cabbage', but made no other signs of waking.

Harry looked up at Mrs. Figg questioningly. She smiled back. "Go on, dear."

Harry shook his arm a little more firmly, shifting his position. "Remus…Moony…wake up…"

There was another snort before the man's eyes popped open. He stared unblinkingly at the boy in his arms for a moment, seemingly trying to remember where he was, before smiling brightly at Harry. "Hello, Harry," he mumbled, voice rough with sleep. He noticed Mrs. Figg hovering beside him. "Is there something the matter, Arabella?"

"Dumbledore is here to see you and Harry."

That seemed to knock any sleepiness out of Remus at once. "Here? Now?"

Mrs. Figg sighed. "Yes."

Harry peered at the two adults, well aware of how tense they were at the moment. He wondered if Dumblessore—er—Dumbledore never made house visits unless something bad was happening.

"Come, Harry," Remus started, moving to stand up. Harry knew he was obviously trying to be more cheerful than he felt as he followed the older man out into the living room. "Let's go say hello."

Harry had never felt someone like the man who sat stroking a cat and beaming in front of him—a breathtaking amount of power was there. His eyes were twinkling pleasantly as his other hand sat resting on a long, white beard. He felt just as familiar to Harry—if not more so—than Remus. His energy was almost overwhelming the boy. ..Headmaster of Hogwarts…wise, powerful …a beautiful orange and red bird sitting at his side…

_"_I see you're feeling better, Harry?" Dumbledore said, smiling at the boy jovially and snapping him out of his thoughts. Harry knew instinctively that Dumbledore hadn't asked his name because he would have considered a formal introduction humorous. "I do hope you're enjoying your holiday."

"Y—yes, sir," Harry said, glancing briefly at Remus. There was something Harry didn't like about this visit, despite the cheery tone of the guest—neither Remus nor Mrs. Figg had expected him to come here. "Are you enjoying yours, sir?"

The wizened wizard smiled spectacularly at Harry. "Yes, Harry, I believe I am. I'm very sorry to have interrupted so abruptly—but I would like to run something by you and Remus."

Remus's brows were furrowed.

"Do not trouble yourself, dear boy," Dumbledore said no less as cheerfully than before. "I simply wished to invite you and Harry to Christmas dinner tomorrow at Hogwarts."

If possible, Remus appeared even more confused to Harry, but this didn't stop the odd thrill of excitement from taking hold of the boy's stomach. "Are you sure, Albus? I thought…" Remus trailed off almost immediately, eyes meeting emeralds.

"Excuse us for a moment will you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, not looking put-off at all.

Harry was quite sure that whatever Dumbledore had to say, it was about him.

After a brief silence, Mrs. Figg directed Harry out of the room. "Come along. Let's make some tea."

**-- --**

Remus Lupin was quite angry—a sight that was most unusual. Most who knew him personally were well-aware that he would much rather be sensible and civilized than to show any hints of his wolf-nature.

Tonight, however, he felt it was warranted.

"But _why?_ I understand perfectly that you're worried for Harry's safety—but what about his happiness? I thought that you wanted me to remove—"

"—I cannot be sure that it is safe, Remus," the white-bearded wizard sighed, "I will, however, promise you that I will find a way."

"I'm not sure I understand though, Albus. Harry didn't even know about the wizarding world until today—how can he possibly be expected to…"

Remus trailed off when he noticed his former Headmaster's face. It was subdued and thoughtful—not at all angry.

The younger wizard had never felt so weary—not even after romping through the Forbidden Forest the entire night. He had taken a backseat to so many in his life; maybe even in his _own_ life. He did not want the end result to be the same as before: alone, with all of his loved ones dead. He had never been good at taking charge—that was James and Sirius, natural leaders. And even Peter had been braver than he—he, Remus Lupin, who could never muster the strength to truly fight for what he really wanted.

Sighing, Remus ran a hand through his graying hair. "I'll bring him tomorrow. Thank you for the invitation."

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, though not very brightly. Moving forward with a look of both satisfaction and heavy-heartedness, he lightly put his hand on Remus's shoulder. "Harry will perhaps save us all someday, Remus."

And before Remus could so much as bat an eye or ask what exactly he had meant, Dumbledore was gone— leaving him feeling both distraught and hopeful.

With a heavy sigh, he placed his face in his hands.

_Tap. Tap._

"Remus?"

A small messy-haired boy was sticking his head around the corner, looking silently confused. "Are you all right?"

Without a word Remus stood and picked up the small boy. "I'm fine, Harry." Walking off towards the kitchen, he shifted the underweight boy to his side. Harry knew that conversation was not happening when he continued with, "Would you mind going to Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon? The food most certainly does not disappoint," Remus added with a small smile.

Harry smiled back brilliantly. "Yes. I would like that very much." 

**Author's Note: **I certainly hope you like where this chapter is going :)I hope I'm not messing up the characters too badly…despite being an AU, the characters are who they are meant to be...if that makes any sense. Ha.

One random note – I made Harry take such a shine to Remus in this chapter because I felt that if Harry ever found "long-lost relations" as a kid, he would immediately attach himself (just like in the third book with Sirius offering a place to live…).

And, as for Remus, I have always felt that the reason he never tried to raise Harry (besides the werewolf thing) is because he was afraid of being happy…just like with Tonks, and then at the prospect of having Teddy in DH. But yeah, just thought I'd clear all that up :)


	6. Chapter Six

**  
A/N: This story was actually meant to be very short…but I have decided to add on to it a bit.  
Thanks for the feedback (more please?) and adds 'n such! Excuse the small chapter, once again. Perhaps some more encouragement? ;)**

**Chapter Six****  
**  
Harry could not recall a time when he had been so excited—perhaps that one day when the Dursleys had no choice but to leave him home blissfully alone for a few hours? But no, that had been short-lived—this was incredible…this by all rights had the potential to be _fun._ This was not to say that he wasn't at all nervous as well; of course he was. Remus's and Dumbledore's energy were quite overpowering on their own. Dumbledore's had almost filled his senses completely, and if he was going to a school where many wizards and witches resided…maybe it would become too much.

But this hardly stopped all his excitement. The emerald eyed boy was so far beyond curious now he could surely not be expected to think of much else. He was a wizard—he would be attending Hogwarts within a couple of years. He would get to witness the magic that he had merely sensed all these years…the feeling of being a 'freak' would completely vanish.

One fact that the small boy had to frequently remind himself of was his fame—he was _famous_. Not only was he Harry Potter, orphan; he was Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. Harry was quite sure that he was not going to like this title or the attention. He could easily understand why people might revere him for 'defeating' this Voldemort fellow who had terrorized the Wizarding World and killed many innocent people, including his parents, just because he believed them to be inferior. _Inferior, _he pondered the word. _I was made to feel inferior too…_

But Remus had divulged information that Harry knew he was not supposed to have told him. Voldemort was gathering forces again, was making plans to pick up right where he left off previously… Harry had merely made Voldemort go away for a little while. There was so much more behind this situation that he needed to know, that he was irreversibly tied to, and the small, curious boy knew exactly who had all of the information. _Dumbledore_. Harry was not lying to Remus when he said that these feelings he read from people were not exactly memories. For many years, Harry could barely distinguish between what people told him and what he was eventually able to _read_ from them. And now, Harry believed wholeheartedly that what he could read was the soul—or perhaps, the exact structure that made up a person's personality.

"Harry? We're leaving in a few minutes." Remus stood in the bedroom doorway with an unreadable look upon his face. Harry had been feeling Remus' anxiety all morning—the tightness in his smile and posture was definitely not natural. Harry had watched the normally calm man before him pace for about an hour the night before—and he had hardly spoken a word to him all morning.

Harry became exceedingly nervous instantly. Should he be frightened? Had he been mistaken to think that this would not be unpleasant? "Okay, I'm ready." Gathering up his flimsy coat and worn-out shoes, Harry headed towards the kitchen where Remus was petting one of the many cats in Mrs. Figg's home.

A sudden thought struck Harry as Remus bent down to fix the boy's shoelaces. "How are we getting there?"

Remus bent up, now directly within eye level—which Harry found slightly awkward, being so used to looking upwards— and smiled softly for the first time all day. "Dumbledore will be… accompanying us. He should be here in a few minutes."

Curious, Harry tilted his head, but nodded slowly anyway.

Instead of removing himself from his position immediately, Remus hesitated for merely a second before leaning in and giving the anxious boy in front of him a tight hug. "Happy Christmas, Harry," he whispered softly into the child's ear.

The small boy stiffened at those words, but slowly relaxed into the embrace again. "Happy Christmas, Remus."

Harry felt the older man grip him tighter and ruffle his hair gently before removing himself from the floor. He smiled at Harry warmly while picking up something wrapped in red paper. He knelt again, and presented the gift to the small boy before him. "For you, Harry."

Harry took the package with mild trepidation and wonder…_A present? For me? _Emerald eyes stared back at Remus quite astonished, curious, and nervous. Harry had never received a proper present before—should he accept it? What if Dudley found it and ruined it? He had nothing to give Remus—would he be angry? Should he—

"—Harry," Remus murmured quite forcefully, noticing that the boy had begun to tremble. His brows were furrowed in concern. "What's the matter?"

Shifting his feet back and forth, Harry simply mumbled, "_Why_?"

The older man's face went from confused, to sad, to angry, and then landed on tired. Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand over his weary face and sighed brokenly. Shaking his graying head, Remus leaned in for another hug and whispered in Harry's ear fiercely, "Forget everything the Dursleys ever told you. You deserve presents. You deserve to be happy. I…I care very much for you, Harry, I want to show you that."

Remus leaned back and motioned for Harry to open his gift—the emerald eyed boy decided not to hesitate this time and ripped the shiny red paper. He was surprised to see an album…a photo album?

The sandy-haired man smiled. "Open it."

The pictures he found inside could have only been his parents…and they were _moving?_ Remus had told him several times how much he looked like his father, but how he had his mother's eyes…Harry had seen them in his mind before, but this was concrete. This was real. And he could not help but feel so grateful that Remus—a man who had been a stranger to him nearly a couple days ago—had decided to become a part of his life once again. He was kind, intelligent, and genuinely cared about him—the orphan with the baggy clothes and nasty relatives. It was frightening to the small boy how much he really wanted this man to remain a part of his life. Harry felt that perhaps maybe, as he watched the older man smiling almost sadly before him, that maybe…maybe Remus needed him too?

**--HP--**

Harry felt nauseous—this Apparating thing Dumbledore just pulled was not at all pleasant. He considered himself lucky to have kept his breakfast down. Remus told him that normally a witch or wizard could not Apparate inside Hogwarts—but Dumbledore being Headmaster has its advantages.

They appeared just outside the castle, so Harry could admire the grounds. And admire he did. This place felt so…familiar and pleasant to the young boy that his previous fears of feeling overwhelmed momentarily vanished. There was so much power beyond those walls…Harry smiled silently when he noticed Dumbledore beaming at him.

"This, dear boy, is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Eyes twinkled behind spectacles.

Remus took him by the hand. "What do you think, Harry?"

Nodding dumbly, Harry managed a "wow". Looking off to his right, he suddenly noticed a large figure in the distance walking hurriedly towards them.

Dumbledore followed the young boy's gaze and his voice rung out positively cheery, "Ah, Hagrid! You're just in time to welcome our young Mr. Potter here."

Said one 'young Mr. Potter' was not entirely sure who…or what he was staring at. The man—Hagrid?— now standing before him was very…_large. _And hairy. But he felt familiar as well…_kind, brave, loyal_…

"Nice ta see yeh again, Harry!" Hagrid said, beaming down at the young boy and shaking his arm so fast the small boy thought his entire arm may detach. "I haven't see yeh since you were a baby! Mind, yeh don't seem that much taller." The smile attached to the large man's face was nothing but genuine and Harry felt _warmed_ somehow.

Rubbing his arm slightly, Harry smiled back brightly. "Hello Hagrid. I hope you're having a nice holiday?"

Hagrid's mane of hair was blowing every which way in the silent winter breeze and his smile never faded. "Yes, but I'm so glad ta see yer here, Harry! Hogwarts is one of a kind. I thought it'd be a few more years…" Hagrid's small eyes widened as he acknowledged Remus' presence, "Merlin's beard! Good ta see yeh too, Remus! It's been a long time…"

Remus was smiling now as well, but Harry had felt his tension return upon Dumbledore's arrival at Mrs. Figg's. It worried him. "I'm glad to see you're doing well, Hagrid. We were just showing Harry the grounds."

Hagrid's smile became a grin as he looked from Dumbledore, to Remus, and then to Harry. He nodded his shaggy head to himself, as if answering a silent question. "Well, I'll see yeh inside! Happy Christmas!" He thumped off in the opposite direction he came from, humming a small tune.

"Well!" Dumbledore exclaimed while looking down at Harry's befuddled face. "Shall we go inside?"

-- --

The inside was beyond Harry's imagination. The moving portraits…the ghosts…the feel of the people inside. It was amazing, and the small boy instantly felt more at home than he ever had with the Dursleys. He only hoped that when he actually attended this school he would be able to make friends…and wouldn't be too far behind on his magical knowledge. Harry had been informed about how muggle-borns got along just fine of course, but he still had his doubts. Maybe he could ask Remus for some general information?

Harry felt a tug on his hand—Remus was looking down at him with a soft smile. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Harry could only think to say "yes" before Dumbledore starting leading them to his office—apparently there were a few things the old wizard wanted to discuss before the feast. While Harry was well aware that Remus was less than thrilled about this notion, Harry remained entirely curious.

The fascinated boy saw only a few students milling about here and there—but no one stopped to talk to them—and no one had recognized Harry thus far besides Hagrid. And that was because he had actually known him as a baby. Harry had been a bit worried people he didn't have any sort of connection to may come up to him and ask about Voldemort—Remus had alluded that some might—and had fully prepared himself for this eventuality. He was very…relieved.

They approached what Harry assumed to be the entrance to Dumbledore's office—it definitely seemed to _fit_ the headmaster well— and the white-bearded wizard paused before muttering, "Licorice Wand!"

Remus took Harry's hand again and led him into the Headmaster's office. There were many moving portraits in there…former headmasters? And the bird Harry had _seen_ with Dumbledore…

Twinkling eyes met emeralds. "This is Fawkes, Harry. A Phoenix." The bird in question let out a low whistle, beautiful. "Go on, Harry."

Harry looked up questioningly, and slowly, cautiously, stroked its feathers. Another low whistle.

Before the entranced boy could comment, the wizened old wizard sat down promptly in his chair and looked Remus directly in the eyes. "So, perhaps we should discuss Harry's new living arrangements?" 


	7. Chapter 7

**A/n: ****I updated quicker! I appreciate the adds to faves and such… I really could use some more feedback, though! I originally hadn't planned to take things in this direction…I really want to know what you all think of Harry's ability. Interesting? Dumb? Whatever?  
I plan on ending this story while Harry is still young… would you be interested in a sequel?**

Chapter 7

**  
**Had Harry not been focusing on the explosion taking place in the pit of his stomach, perhaps he might have noticed the slight drop of Remus' jaw and wide eyes now suddenly a bit…_shocked_?

Barely collecting himself, Remus managed to choke, "Albus?"

Harry stilled. He could feel Remus' apprehension…his hope…and his grief all in one—and the small boy wondered how he had not noticed throughout the years how complicated—or how uncomplicated, people really were. Harry was under no illusion that wizards were any different from—what had Remus called them?—muggles. Everyone had mixed feeling, thoughts…but why was it that he could feel wizards so acutely? He had been able to block out the Dursleys mostly, but he really hadn't wanted to know what the depths of their minds had to offer. The emotions, the power, had never been this noticeable, so blatant, until Remus had walked into his life.

_This is just the beginning._

There was now a small but detectable smile upon the old Headmaster's face as he laid out his hands in front of them. "Please sit," he replied calmly.

Harry could feel Dumbledore's sadness, though by all appearances he seemed entirely giddy. _Did this man ever truly show his true feelings? Could he not…afford to?_ But the small boy knew what that small sting of melancholy meant…this was not a fairy tale, but maybe…

"Harry," Dumbledore began, staring at the boy in front of him quite seriously. So serious that Harry felt uneasy under his gaze. He shifted. "I would like to ask you a few questions, but you must answer me truthfully."

Remus reached over and grabbed Harry's hand—it was starting to feel natural. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Remus wasn't just trying to comfort _him, _however. Harry managed a small, steadying breath, one that wasn't meant for a boy his age, and prepared himself for the onslaught of questions_. Okay, it's okay. _"All right, sir. I promise."

Dumbledore smiled gently, and Remus was looking everywhere except at the boy beside him. "Do you like living with your aunt and uncle, Harry?"

If Harry was more of an outgoing boy, he may have snorted or rolled his eyes. He knew perfectly well that the old wizard knew more about himself than he did. He had sent people—wizards and witches?—to check on him while growing up, hadn't he? He must know what the Dursleys were like…_he must already know_…

This thought almost rendered him incapable of thought. Dumbledore knew he had been unhappy all these year—_he knew!_ Why hadn't he taken him away? Sent Remus sooner? Maybe…did nobody else want him? He—he wasn't a freak! If he was famous, if his parents had been the wonderful people Remus described, someone—a wizard surely would have taken him in? Why…?_  
_  
"Harry?"

Remus's concerned eyes snapped Harry back into the present. The older man gently pushed back Harry's bangs that were in serious need of a good trim. "Harry," he muttered softly, "please."

Emeralds blinked. Such a simple word: please. One he was certainly not accustomed to hearing directed at him. Harry met Dumbledore's unwavering gaze. "No, sir. I do not like living with them."

Without missing a beat, "And why is that, dear boy?"

_You already know. _"They…they don't like me."

Remus's grip tightened, and Dumbledore nodded. Harry knew they wanted to know if they had ever physically abused him, but they hadn't. Of course, that isn't to say that Uncle Vernon wasn't a bit forceful sometimes, as well as when he and Dudley 'played' together…and the long hours weeding the garden definitely took its toll when he received very little food for the day. But no, they hadn't physically abused him… there was no need for that. They despised him, neglected him, made him feel worthless, lied to him... They accomplished their mission of 'make Harry feel like an unwanted pet' well enough without taking a hand to him.

''—do you mean by that, Harry?"

With a small shake of his hand, unruly hair falling right back over his eyes, Harry quite calmly muttered, "They do not care about me. They…they do not really want me there. I'm not treated like Dudley." _For starters, I wouldn't be called 'boy'._The small boy saw Dumbledore lips part, about to ask another question, but he beat him to it. He really didn't feel like letting this go on longer than was necessary. "No, sir, they do not hit me. Sometimes they don't let me eat much…but that's it. I promise."

Surprisingly, the pressure on his hand started to lessen, and Harry decided that it was now or never. "Sir?" he asked, looking at Headmaster Dumbledore's perfectly controlled face. "May I ask you a question?"

Dumbledore's bright smile returned, but Harry wasn't fooled. He wouldn't answer anything he didn't want to answer. "Yes, Harry, you may."

It was a wonder to the small boy how quickly he had gotten over his shyness for asking questions. "Why did you send me there?"

The white-bearded man heaved a sigh as Fawkes flitted through the air to land on the Headmaster's desk, making a few lonely pieces of parchment shift positions.

"Remus perhaps explained to you about Voldemort?"

Harry nodded, and Remus jumped slightly at hearing his name. Apparently Harry wasn't the only one lost in thought today—he noticed that Remus hadn't interjected once…

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, and crinkled his nose contemplating the meaning behind the question. "But what does he have to do with the Dursleys?"

Dumbledore chuckled at the implication. "Nothing and everything, dear boy." Fawkes let out a beautiful note and shifted his neck to look at Harry. "There are many types of powerful magic in our world, Harry. And not all of it is used for the right reasons, as you are aware. Blood magic is particularly powerful…your Aunt Petunia is a blood relative, Harry, this mere fact keeps you safe."

Harry furrowed his brows. "So…living with the Dursleys has kept me safe from Voldemort?"

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed, "amongst other things."

Harry knew further questioning of that topic would prove fruitless. He looked at Remus suddenly and felt his heart drop to his stomach.

He would never be allowed to leave the Dursleys! Remus had told him that Voldemort was making his presence known and if living with his Aunt Petunia was the only way to keep him safe…Dumbledore would never allow it.

The elder wizard read the boy's distress at once, but said nothing. Remus cleared his throat, as if he had been trying to push his heart back down his throat. "Albus…is there nothing…?"

"Of course there is not _nothing_, my boy. I did say I wanted to discuss new arrangements, did I not?" His eyes were twinkling like mad.

Harry stomach was doing flip flops and Remus looked completely baffled. "Then...?"

The emerald-eyed boy felt like he may have a heart attack from anticipation—but then Dumbledore smiled and said evenly, "Harry _must_ live with the Dursleys, Remus. But that does not mean that he may not spend time with you as well." Dumbledore moved to pet Fawkes. "Like the winter holidays, for instance," he added with a knowing smile.

Though distantly disappointed, Harry was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he was absolutely elated that he may visit with Remus from time to time—maybe he could even go there this summer! If…if Remus wanted him.

Remus certainly did not look unhappy, but his heart twinged when he looked at the boy beside him. "How often may I...?"

Harry's head snapped up. Remus awarded him with a small smile.

Dumbledore looked just as happy as Harry felt. And it was genuinely plastered on his wizened face. "I contacted the Dursleys right after you arrived in Surrey. They would be happy—" Here, Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and grinned even more so, "—to let Harry visit with you one weekend a month; some of the winter holidays and some of the summer."

Remus's eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat**. **"We'll have to watch for my—""—Yes, Remus, my dear boy, I have complete confidence that you would never put Harry in any kind of danger."

Remus's mouth opened and closed a few times, before he sat absolutely still for a few moments. Turning towards the boy beside him, he grabbed Harry's other hand and stared into his eyes. "Harry." His voice sounded raspy; he tried again, "Harry, would you like that? Would you like to visit me?"

Harry wondered how Remus couldn't feel the happiness radiating off of him. He had dreamed of things like this before—of a long lost relative showing up and taking him away. Yes, he still had to live with the Dursleys…but he could also spend time with someone who actually wanted him there, who cared about him, who called him Harry, who let him ask questions, who told him stories of his parents, who hugged him and gave him a present, who took care of him when he was sick, who would tell him all about magic! This was something better than his imagination could have ever come up with on its own.

Harry was sure that he was wearing the biggest smile that he had ever worn in his life—and he launched himself into Remus's arms. "Yes! Yes!"

Though taken aback at first, Remus slowly relaxed into the embrace and buried his face in the child's unruly hair. "I'm glad." He let out a small chuckle.

Dumbledore sat watching with a thoughtful expression on his face. He clapped his hands together after a few minutes and smiled at the pair across from him. "Well, now! I do believe the feast will start soon and I hate to keep everyone waiting because I'm too old to keep track of the time."

Harry giggled as Dumbledore stood. "Shall we?"

--*--

**Okay, I hope you enjoyed. Just so you know I harbor no ill feelings toward Albus Dumbledore; character bashing is certainly ****not**** my thing. Harry simply sees…through him. Hope you enjoyed!**


	8. Chapter Eight

**A/N: Thanks for the feedback! And thanks to all the lurkers for all the faves and alerts! I'm glad everyone finds this story so cute since that was exactly what I was going for.  
I know exactly how I want this story to end, but I keep going back and forth deciding how long I want it to be…hmm.**

**  
Chapter Eight**

It didn't take long for Harry to decide that Hogwarts was the most amazing place in existence, and he wished fervently he were eleven already. His jaw was down to the floor as he followed Dumbledore and Remus through the awe-inspiring castle to the Great Hall. He was beginning to worry again that he was annoying Remus with all the questions that kept flowing out from his mouth, but firmly decided he would rather be too inquisitive than not enough.

Just as they were rounding a corner and Harry was watching one of the men in a portrait pace back and forth in what seemed like a dungeon of some sort, he suddenly felt as if a bucket of cold ice had been poured on top of him.

"Oh, excuse me!"

Harry looked around frantically. _What—oh, had he just walked through that…man?_

The small boy noticed that both Remus and Dumbledore were smiling silently to themselves just as they noticed Harry's concerned face. The elder wizard moved forward and put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Good day, Sir. Nicolas. May I introduce you to young Harry here?"

The man, _the ghost,_ Harry reminded himself, had obviously died a long time ago—his clothing indicated a _very_ long time ago. And he now seemed to be staring at Harry as if he were trying to figure out why he looked so familiar.

A moment later it seemed to click. "My word! Harry Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you," Sir. Nicolas said cheerfully, with a wide smile.

_ So even ghosts know that I'm famous?_

"Er—it's a pleasure to meet you too, sir." Harry managed a small smile and he inched closer to Remus.

Though Harry knew that this ghost was not like the ones in movies that he'd caught glimpses of on the telly over the years; the icy feeling of walking _straight through_ _him_ had made him terribly unsettled.

"Perhaps we'll be seeing more of each other when you attend Hogwarts, Harry," he continued, still looking very happy indeed.

This confused the small boy, but he held his smile just the same. "Yeah, maybe."

When they two parties parted ways, Harry looked up at Remus with a bewildered expression. "Who was that?"

Remus smiled. "That, Harry, was Sir. Nicolas—or rather, Nearly Headless Nick."

Harry blanched. "Nearly Headless?"

"Yes," Remus simply said, with a knowing smirk. "He's also happens to be Gryffindor Houses' ghost."

"Oh."

Every time Remus mentioned the houses, Harry couldn't help but feel a little nervous. It was clear that Remus expected him to be in Gryffindor like him—like his dad. But what if that didn't happen? What if he just wasn't cut out to be a Gryffindor? What if he got placed into Hufflesmuff—er, Hufflepuff? Or even worse: Slytherin? Harry knew perfectly well that there was much that Remus hadn't divulged about Voldemort…but from what he gathered, most of the wizarding world's dark wizards, like Voldemort, had been in Slytherin. Would Remus even want him around if that happened? Would anyone?

And for the first time since Harry found out he was a wizard, he felt immense frustration. Why was it that his past had been kept a secret from him? Why wouldn't—or couldn't, Remus tell him more about Voldemort? After all, he had been responsible for his parent's deaths, the reason he needed blood protection from his Aunt Petunia…why had Voldemort targeted him, a boy of one? How had he survived a curse that no one else ever had? Why did everyone know more about him that he did?

_Why did no one come before now?_

"Harry, are you all right?"

Remus's concerned voice sliced through Harry's inner rant, and his anger starting melting away like butter. Harry was able to feel Remus more acutely as time went on…and he knew, perhaps knew more than he had ever known anything, that Remus cared deeply for him. And that he felt guilty about not being in his life sooner, about his parent's death, about the fact that he knew how scary and frustrating this all must be for him.

"No," Harry muttered, conjuring up a small smile, "I'm fine."

And as Harry reached up to take his newly found family's hand, he knew without any doubt in his young mind, that Remus would never willingly leave him again.

**--HP—**

It was snowing. Well, the sky above him was snowing, but he wasn't cold or wet.

The Great Hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland of sorts and because there were not as many students around for the holidays, the tables had been rearranged (or so Remus told him).

The first person to notice his presence was an older professor—though she generally had a strict look about her, the emerald-eyed boy knew how soft her heart could really be. _Cat…_

"Afternoon, Albus, Remus," she said with a smile, as she peered over her spectacles. "I see you've brought a guest."

Remus nudged Harry front and center. "Harry, this is Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor house."

Harry remembered Remus telling him about all the pranks his father and friends had pulled back in the day, under her watch, and wondered if that would mean she would be keeping a sharp eye on him? Shyly, Harry smiled back. "Hello, m'am."

"Hello, Harry." She turned her gaze to meet Dumbledore's. "I trust everything has gone well?"

Dumbledore was looking very cheery again. "Exceedingly well, Minerva."

"Indeed." She was smiling pleasantly, but it was obvious her thoughts were elsewhere. "I'm glad to see you've all made it."

A few other professors came over to talk to Dumbledore as well, but once they noticed the small boy hanging on to Remus's arm like a life-line, they all about had the same reactions ("Pleasure to meet you!", "Harry Potter! I never thought I's see the day!"). Hagrid even came over again to chat with Harry—and Harry decided that Hagrid was both the nicest and the biggest man he had ever seen in his life. The few students there, barely a handful, were whispering to each other and pointing in Harry's direction. He could hear the one girl—blonde hair with brown eyes—tell the timid, and frankly somewhat scared, boy next to her that if he wasn't nearly brave enough to come introduce himself to the famous Harry Potter, how would he ever become an Auror?

Yes, Harry decided, everyone here knew him…er, knew of him. And most of them were ecstatic to talk to and see The-Boy-Who-Lived in person. Harry had decided already that he didn't like this title, and wondered why the Wizarding World seemed to like to delve out nicknames. Remus had explained to him earlier about Voldemort's other alias, You-Know-Who. Personally, Harry wondered why Voldemort had named himself Voldemort to begin with—surely that couldn't be his actual name?

"Ah, Severus! I'm glad you decided to join us."

The rush of feeling that encompassed the man in front of him was…_disturbing_. He was pale, with long, black, greasy hair and a scowl that made Harry instantly think that this man had never been happy in his life.

Remus was gripping his hand harder. "Headmaster." His voice was cool enough to make Harry shiver and the glare of hatred that he sent Remus made him extremely uneasy. "Lupin," he sneered.

"Severus," Remus said, without a sneer, but a head nod.

Pain. Pure, undiluted pain was all Harry could feel from this man. It was overwhelming, and so acute that Harry was so sure the others must feel it as well. When the man's cold eyes rounded on him, it took all of Harry's effort not to flinch. "And this must be the famous Harry Potter," he said in the same cool voice. Harry knew this man most certainly didn't think it was a pleasure to meet him.

Harry copied Remus's nod and managed a small, "Sir."

The man's lips twisted into a not-so-happy smile, before Dumbledore interjected (_my, didn't he still look cheery?_), "Harry, this is Professor Snape, the Potions Master, and Head of Slytherin House."

If Harry weren't feeling so overwhelmed by this man's presence, he might have snorted. _Of course he's head of Slytherin house…_

Remus had already told Harry about Snape. About their youth and the pranks his father used to pull on him. Apparently, Snape had in no way let _that_ go.

This man had loathed him before he had even met him. But Harry also knew that this man's hatred was not necessarily aimed at him…that Professor Snape did not know _who_ he should hate. Oddly, this thought made the small boy feel a bit braver.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

Apparently Snape was going to do all the snorting for him. "How very like your father you are…"

Harry felt his eyes boring holes into him, felt that he didn't by any means like what he saw…but when he finally met Harry's almost concerned gaze back, his eyes didn't linger.

Before death-glaring at Remus again, Snape turned his full attention to Dumbledore. "I have done as you asked, though I would not recommend looking further into it this before we are given…details."

Dumbledore's countenance did not change, but Harry felt the shift in mood. "Hm, yes. Have there been any more…disturbances?"

Snape inclined his head only slightly. "Yes."

_Voldemort._

And with a swish of his long cape, he was gone, and Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

When it was time to sit for the feast, Harry noticed that most of the eyes in the room were still focused on him. It was slightly unnerving to think that all of these people had known him as a famous wizard before he had. Now that he thought about it…he did remember some oddly dressed people (his Uncle had called them weirdos) that had seemed to have known who he was in London a couple years ago…

"A Happy Christmas to all," Dumbledore was saying, "let's eat!"

And as if by magic (Harry had to remind himself that magic was precisely what it was), his plate was full of food. More food than Harry had ever eaten at one time in his life!

Remus saw Harry's amazed look and smiled gently. "Hogwarts never let's anyone go hungry."

"I see that," Harry mumbled, and picked up his spoon to dig into a lump of mashed potatoes.

Remus laughed beside him. "And this is only the first course."

Harry got through the courses quite easily, though half-way through he realized he might have the biggest stomachache in the world the next day. Hagrid had sat opposite him and chatted away to the small boy about how much Harry was going to love Hogwarts, how much he looked like his father, and about various specious of very poisonous spiders. Remus would fill in the gaps of Harry's wizarding knowledge from time to time and Harry caught Dumbledore smiling brightly out of his peripheral vision.

Snape sat on the farthest end and Harry couldn't help but feel glad of this. He was the only person he had met thus far whose aura was almost unbearable. His personal dislike of the boy did not bother him exactly, though he didn't expect Snape was ever going to be his favorite teacher at Hogwarts.

While he was eating dessert and about to burst, a question suddenly formed in his mind that he was surprised hadn't surfaced before. "Remus?"

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry tilted his head. "Do you know when the Dursleys are coming back from their holiday?"

Remus's brows furrowed. "No, I don't, exactly. Did they give you a date?"

Harry shook his head and Remus stood abruptly to stand beside Dumbledore. Watching them have a rushed and whispered conversation, Remus came back with a small smile on his face.

"They will not be back until the 4th of January."

Not sure how to phrase what he wanted to ask, Harry simply said, "Then I'll be with you until then?"

Harry noticed Remus's smile widen. "Yes, Harry, you will be."

"At Mrs. Figg's?"

Remus looked thoughtful for a moment. "I imagine so. Perhaps next time you'll be able to come to my house. Would you like that?"

Harry nodded, his messy hair falling in his face. "Yes."

--**--

Full to the bursting point, Harry was sitting silently while the other professors chatted together, the students already gone, and Remus had moved to speak with Dumbledore again. Hagrid had been informing Harry about his love for dragons, and how sorry he was that no one could really keep them as pets.

Groggily, Harry wondered about this feeling he was having…was it contentment? Remus was his half-guardian now and he would be starting Hogwarts in less than two years! He wondered vaguely if he should tell Remus more about these feelingshe got from people. Or would he once again be considered a freak? Not by Remus, of course, but… What if people didn't particularly like that he could read them? He wanted to make friends when he got here…

"Harry? You ready?"

Blurry emeralds looked up to see Remus's face hovering above him.

A yawn involuntarily escaped the boy's mouth. Why hadn't he realized how exhausted he felt? "Yeah."

A chuckle. "Okay sleep-head, let's go."

And before Harry could make a move, he was in Remus's arms. "Bye Hagrid," he murmured.

Harry received a few waves before Dumbledore was walking them out the door. Burying himself in Remus's chest, Harry was quickly losing the battle to stay awake. He vaguely (_though it couldn't possibly be…_) thought he heard the words—"Goodnight Harry…love you"—before succumbing to darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/n: Thanks for all the feedback! Who will be number 100? I hope I've kept Remus in character this chapter—but I always thought that they should have addressed this issue in the books.**

**Chapter 9**

"It went just fine, Arabella," Remus whispered, tucking Harry into bed. The boy had gone out like a light when they were leaving Hogwarts—even the Apparating hadn't roused him.

Mrs. Figg was ill at ease and she didn't bother trying to hide the discontent shining on her face. "And what did Dumbledore say? You know that eventually they're going to realize what we're doing—and then what? Harry isn't even old enough to have a wand, let alone know how to protect himself."

Remus sighed heavily, sitting down carefully on the bed next to Harry. "Dumbledore assures me that the wards on the Dursleys' home are withstanding—they won't be able to get near him, even if they ever knew where to find him."

Mrs. Figg looked thoughtful, but not satisfied. "That doesn't mean they won't be able to find him wherever he goes, does it?"

The sandy-haired man's head jerked slightly. "What do you mean, Arabella?"

"I meant to say," her eyes were slightly distant, "that the boy does have to go places, you know. School, for example, or even walking down the street… Do you know anything about the extent of this blood-protection?"

"No," Remus muttered, looking somewhat downcast. Dumbledore had not exactly been forthcoming with the information he wanted—needed to know. Not to mention he'd been so overwhelmed by the prospect of having half-guardianship of Harry that he had forgotten to ask many things. Namely, how safe were they really? How safe was anyone?

"There have been more disappearances," Remus said quietly, staring down at the child breathing steadily in-and-out. "Like before."

"I figured." Remus heard a tired sigh and the opening of a door. "Did Dumbledore allude to who he thought might be helping?"

A shrug. "Former Death Eaters? From what I gather, nothing is entirely certain at the moment." Remus paused to raise a brow to the skeptical look that presented itself on Mrs. Figg's face. "Right now it's all just…speculation."

Mrs. Figg 'hmm-ed'. "Speculation indeed."

Remus wasn't sure how to respond –he trusted Dumbledore's judgment more than any other wizard out there, but this was _Harry_. If Dumbledore truly thought Voldemort may be trying to come back, if someone was helping him…was Harry expected to…? Panic rose to the bottom of his throat at the thought, and he swallowed it back down painfully. _He is just a boy…_

Mrs. Figg shifted at the door, noticing Remus's fixed gaze on Harry's peaceful form. "When did you say the Dursleys were returning?"

The abrupt change in conversation did not go unnoticed. "Next Sunday. Dumbledore spoke with them."

Mrs. Figg smiled. "I would have liked to have seen that."

Though he nodded his head in agreement, Remus's eyes were still far away. "May I ask you something, Arabella?"

She blinked, surprised. "Of course."

Remus paused, trying to form his words carefully, "I trust that Harry has told us the truth, but are you _absolutely_ sure—"

"—they have not touched him, Remus," she said gently. "They were not kind to him by any means, but they are not…_that_ cruel."

"They starved him."

"Yes."

"They neglected him."

"Yes."

"They called him names."

"Yes, dear boy, they did." Letting out a sigh, Mrs. Figg reached down to pick up one of her many beloved cats and tilted her head thoughtfully. "But you are here now."

The one emotion that hadn't surfaced that day began to slowly—and Remus more harshly than he intended bit out, "_I was going to leave_."

"Yes."

Remus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the oncoming onslaught of the headache forming above his brow. He had almost been too frightened to face Harry—to face his past. How could he have been so selfish? Harry needed someone to care for him, to tell him stories about his parents, to simply just be a friend.

Harry had not had a proper childhood…and now, he may have to watch his back for the rest of his life.

"I think Dumbledore believes that Harry must be the one to rid the world of Voldemort," Remus said with an air of calm he didn't feel.

"_If _he comes back."

Remus raised his tired eyes. "_If_."

Mrs. Figg scratched the black and white chubby cat in her arms, while moving swiftly—for her age—to the door. "Well, goodnight. I suppose we have more time to…_well_." She waved a hand in front of her face as if to wipe the conversation clean and walked silently out of the room.

Standing, Remus removed his shoes and moved to glance in the small mirror hanging by the closet. He hated looking in the mirror—his reflection would never lie to him. He had aged inexplicably, and violently, since _that_ day so many years ago. He knew he was doomed ever since he had been bitten—but the war and death had beat the beast and that was in no way a comfort for Remus. Many times he thought that he would have preferred to have died during the previous war—with his best friends; to have died thinking of James, Lily, Sirius, and Peter as _faithful_ and _alive_…

He often wished he hadn't lived to see the day when he lost everything.

_Almost_ everything.

Remus turned his eyes back to the sleeping boy and was more than surprised to see two brilliant emeralds shining back at him.

"You're sad," Harry simply stated groggily, head still buried in his pillow.

His heart clenched.

With only a moment's hesitation, he sighed and climbed into bed next to Harry. "Yes." He reached out to push a few strands of hair out of the boy's eyes. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Harry blinked up at him. "Please don't be sad. It…it makes me sad, too."

"Oh, Harry," Remus muttered, running his hands through the unruly boy's hair. "Do not worry on my account. I have been letting my mind wander too often lately."

Harry shifted himself, so he was facing Remus completely, and saw instantly how weary his newly acquired family's eyes were. "Is it because of me? I'm sorry—I didn't mean—"

"No," Remus said firmly, squeezing the boy slightly. "You make me very happy, Harry. Remember that. I know this is all a bit sudden for you, but you must know that you can always talk to me, always ask me questions." Remus stopped to pinch his nose again. "You are not responsible for any of this."

"Any of what?" Harry asked with a furrowed brow.

Remus swallowed. "I am unsure of the future at the moment. I told you that there are bad wizards out there…but I promise you that I will do everything within my power to keep you safe." He kissed the boy's forehead. _And happy_.

Harry nodded tiredly. "I think I understand…"

Remus shook his head wearily. "I wish you didn't have to, Harry. But I'm very proud of you—you've dealt with more in these last few days than most adults could have."

Blushing, Harry buried his face further into his pillow. He was unsure of how to take all of these compliments Remus gave him so often—sure, he had the odd teacher here and there who had praised his work, but this was different. Something in the small boy's gut tingled slightly. "I'm glad I know…" Harry began shyly, unsure of what he was really trying to say. "I'm glad I know why I am like this."

Remus stiffened slightly. "What do you mean?"

Harry blushed deeper. "I always knew there was something…off about me."

"Harry." Remus's voice had an edge to it, but Harry knew it was not directed at him exactly. "There is nothing wrong with you. Please remember that. Please."

Peaking up from his pillow, the boy shook his head. "No…I meant…I'm glad you came."

This time, Remus visibly flinched—and Harry knew why immediately. There was a sudden wave of guilt emanating so strongly from the older man; so strongly that Harry couldn't feel anything else. It was very unsettling to the young boy that these Wizard's emotions were so intense at times—or maybe the Dursley's had simply been too simple? They certainly had _felt_ different than Remus…

"It's okay," Harry whispered softly.

Without a word (because his throat was too tight to speak anyway), Remus wrapped his arms tighter around Harry, so the boy was practically laying on him. Harry put his head on the older man's chest and felt himself drifting almost instantly. He vaguely noticed that the lights had been turned off and felt Remus shifting beside him.

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"I forgive you."

.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

It was snowing and Harry wasn't quite sure what to think of it. Sure, he had often been outside in the snow before. But usually it just meant that he would end up with his face covered in the cold stuff from Dudley and his gang either shoving it there or having had a hard lump thrown at it. Not to mention his lack of warm clothing—baggy, old, and airy—and without a hat and gloves too. All of his exposed skin was red within a matter of seconds and he had nothing to look forward to but tasteless broth from Aunt Petunia that only ever retained a pathetic amount of heat. Dudley; with his steaming cup of hot chocolate and winter play clothes that, to Harry's sole amusement for the day, made him waddle even more than usual. No, he decidedly wasn't too fond of the snow.

"Harry, give me your other foot."

The aforementioned boy blinked, having forgotten that Remus was currently crouched before him, shoving his heavy feet containing quite thick stockings into boots. Remus had asked if he wanted to play outside—play outside with him! Of course he had said yes—of course it wouldn't be like 'playing' with Dudley and his gang. But that did not exactly alleviate all of Harry's worries: how did one play in the snow? He remembered watching kids at school build snowmen, make snow angels, or build forts and throw snowballs (without intending to hurt one another). Remus would not want to do that—he was a grownup.

But—Remus smiled up at him, when both boots were securely fastened to his feet. "I have something for you."

Harry watched as a thick red scarf, with small owls knitted throughout, was fitted around his neck—as well as a matching hat placed atop his mop of hair. And Harry knew better than to ask why Remus bothered with giving him such gifts. Remus wanted him to be warm—like any other _normal _adult would. Besides, the small boy could feel the compassion rolling off of the man before him. He had only felt something similar with one of his teachers; though Remus' was not mixed with guilt. Not anymore.

Harry giggled when he saw Remus's scarf and hat—there were little wolves on his. Remus smiled brightly and muttered, "Hush you."

"Did you make these?" Harry managed to ask through his giggles.

"No," Remus said through a huge grin. "My grandmother did—when I was younger. But I didn't want to wear them."

Harry tilted his head curiously. "Why not?"

"She made them for me while I was at Hogwarts," Remus replied, his smile becoming wistful. "And I much preferred my Gryffindor scarf. I do recall the Christmas I got them. James made me wear it the whole day."

Whenever Remus spoke of his parents it not only made Harry wish he could have known them himself, but wish that he had friends like Remus. There was no one in his life with which he could share fun memories—would he have that once he got to Hogwarts? Or…would his fame get in the way? Harry was beginning to wonder if he thought too much, as Remus had told him as much.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Remus grabbed hold of his hand with a glint in his eye that he had never seen before, and tugged him out the door.

"Stop!" Harry managed through a fit of giggles as Remus continued his tickle assault. He flailed his arms about causing snow to fly in different directions, but Remus was unrelenting. Harry was unsure if he was ticklish or not and Remus had immediately sought to rectify this. As it turns out, Harry's sides were ridiculously so, and the small boy was starting to think that if Remus did not stop soon, he may explode from laughter.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere," Remus said merrily as Harry attempted once more to break free, managing to flip himself onto his stomach, but not breaking the hold on his sides.

"No!" Harry continued to laugh furiously, his face hurting from smiling. "Remus," he begged, "please!"

"Oh all right," Remus said dramatically with a huff. "But you _must_ decide on a name for your snowman here, Harry. Otherwise, his friends won't know what to call him."

The small boy raised a brow, still smiling. "I know snowmen aren't real. He won't really mind."

"_Really_?" Remus continued in an exaggerated manner, raising a brow as well. He pulled out his wand expertly—Harry almost hadn't seen it—and smiled broadly. "Anything can be real if you wish it to be, Harry."

_"A__nimatum!__"_

Emeralds widened and a jaw dropped as the small boy noticed that his no-nosed, scarf-wearing, barely three foot tall, lopsided snowman had pulled off his hat and had given him a small bow and an almost imperceptive wink.

"Whoa…"

"Indeed," Remus chuckled, though watching the street for passersby. "Now what do you say, Harry? Can the poor snowman have his name?"

Harry tilted his head, mouth still open. Magic surely was amazing and Remus made it look so simple. "I'll be able to do that someday, won't I?"

A smile. "Yes, Harry. That and so much more…now, if you please," Remus gestured urgently towards the miniature snowman.

"Mmm," Harry bit his lip, looking at his now-still man of snow. "Er—how about Bramble Cold-Bottom?"

"_Bramble…Cold-Bottom?_"

The older man's brows furrowed before he gave into a bout of laughter. "Oh Harry," Remus chocked out, "you're going to fit in just fine in the Wizarding World!"

Bramble's smile, too, Harry noticed had become wider. "What?" he asked innocently.

Remus's happiness was tenfold as he reached over to pull Harry into a hug. Although Harry thoroughly enjoyed the contact, he was sure that he would probably always flinch a little at the onset, and he hoped that is was imperceptible to Remus. He hugged back slightly, settling his head beneath a chin—he was happy, too. "Your parents would be very proud of you, you know. You have your father's wit without having his...uh, bolstered self-esteem."

Harry wrinkled his nose and looked up. "Bolstered self-esteem?"

"Arrogance, rather," Remus continued smiling. "That isn't to say that your mother didn't have a temper. James was always relaxed, at ease, when he was around her…even if she cursed him six-ways-to-Sunday and back. They balanced each other out, somehow." His countenance turned thoughtful.

"What," Harry started, suddenly shy, "what were you like at school?"

Remus turned his gaze to meet the young boy's. "I was…quieter than James. I liked to study, although I wasn't exactly a bookworm—" Here, he snorted, "—it was hard to be when James and Sirius were your best mates. I didn't encourage their…antics, but I partook of them none-the-less." There was a significant pause before Remus hugged the small boy tighter and breathed in the winter air. "I was happy."

Harry still really wanted to ask about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, but felt how intensely conflicted Remus' emotions were on this point. Something bad had happened, something Remus thought he should not have to worry about. Concern for his reactions to past events was not something the boy was used to and frankly, although he would never tell Remus, he was sick of being left in the dark about his past. If he had known he was a wizard, and that he would one day be leaving the Dursleys to attend a magic school, might have made life with them easier—would have given him a light at the end of the tunnel.

"I wish I could live with you," Harry said instead, before he could stop himself. He instantly regretted it as he felt Remus's own sadness at the statement wash over him.

There was a soft sigh, and Harry began to turn his head downward before he felt a few fingers under his chin stop him. "I wish you could, too, Harry," Remus muttered softly. "But I will be here for you, I promise. Your Aunt and Uncle won't be bothering you anymore…but it's very important that you live with them."

Harry nodded. It was because of Voldemort that Harry had to remain with the Dursleys, not because Remus didn't want him. His parents had wanted him…Remus wanted him, and, being famous in the magical world, Harry got the feeling it would not have been hard to get adopted.

_It had never been because no one wanted him._

**-HP-**

Later that evening after both Remus and Harry had changed into drier clothes and left Bramble Cold-Bottom a carrot to rectify his lack of nose, the pair was sitting on Mrs. Figg's sofa attempting to play a card game.

"People truly find this entertaining?" Remus asked skeptically, looking down at his hand.

Harry smiled shyly. "I really don't know. It's just a game I saw Dudley try to play once."

"Well," Remus started, "what do you say to some hot chocolate and a snack? Because Arabella was threatening to bake again."

Harry's eyes widened, thinking of her stale biscuits. "Can I help?"

"Exactly what I was thinking," Remus said, and without preamble, picked Harry up and started walking off to the kitchen. He set Harry down on the counter by the oven.

"So, Harry, do you like chocolate cake? My grandmother always had this secret recipe she liked to make me when I was your age."

Harry tilted his head. "But if it was secret, how do you know it?"

Remus's smiled turned sad. "She left them to me before she died. And before you apologize—" Here, Harry's mouth promptly closed, "—never be afraid to ask me questions. She died shortly after I graduated Hogwarts. She was always very supportive about my, uh, monthly problem." Remus squeezed Harry's hand briefly. "It's good to talk about those who you love, even when they're gone, Harry. Especially when they're gone."

Remus made the hot chocolate first and gave Harry the cake ingredients to mix together while he made them each a sandwich. Harry was doing rather well, since he often had to cook for the Dursleys, until he got to the flour. It opened with a 'poof' and ended up all over him.

"Oops."

But instead of an angry Aunt Petunia yelling at him to clean it up, Remus's face broke out into a wolfish grin and Harry immediately knew what to do. Before either of them could blink, there was a storm of flying food and soon both were covered from head to toe in it.

"Come here!" Remus exclaimed, chasing Harry around the kitchen table with a tomato.

"No!" Harry giggled, managing to hit Remus with some more flour. He accidently slipped on some on the floor a second later, landing with a small 'umpf'.

Remus was there a blink later, crouching and putting a hand on his arm. "Harry, are you all right?" Harry turned over, grinning brightly.

"Ooof!" Remus exclaimed, getting a face full of flour. "You little sneak!" He tackled the small boy back down to the floor, laughing. Remus pulled him into a hug and they sat on the floor in comfortable silence, covered in there would-be cake and sandwiches.

"Remus…" Harry started timidly after a few minutes.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Is this was it's like to have family?"

Remus squeezed his eyes together tightly. "Yes," he choked.

"I like it."

"As do I."

**A/N: ****Like always, thanks for the feedback! I used www dot quizopolis dot com slash snowman-name dot php to make up Harry's snowman name. If anyone can tell me what combination of Harry Potter character's names I put together to get Bramble Cold-Bottom… I'll update in within a month! Seriously!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Gaaah! I never thought it would take me this long to update this story. Long story short, I've had multiple crappy, crash-happy computers over the last couple years that I just stopped trying to write things on. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to ****_Sabishii Kage Tenshi _****who figured out the snowman name! This chapter is short, but another will shortly follow :-)**

Harry sat gazing interestedly at the moving photos in the album Remus had given him for Christmas. It was odd for the young boy to finally see his parents—especially _moving. _Aunt Petunia had never even shown him any normal—_muggle_, Harry reminded himself— pictures of anyone or anything connected to her sister. Harry had wondered before what exactly had happen to make Aunt Petunia the way she was—clearly his own mother couldn't possibly be the only decent one in their family? Was it possible that Aunt Petunia became the odd one out?

_Well, _Harry mentally snorted, _she did marry Uncle Vernon._

There was one other thought that kept weighing heavily on the emerald-eyed boy's mind as he flipped through these photos: what ever happened to his father's other friends Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew? Remus had been very careful to avoid explaining their fates during the war with Voldemort. Harry assumed they had met some kind of gruesome end that Remus had never really gotten over—and rightfully so, as Harry himself couldn't imagine how _he_ would feel if the only people who ever accepted him all died tragically.

The small boy shook his head, trying to ward off the gloom. He always wanted to have close friends—the kind of friendship Remus explained The Marauders had. And what if he never got it? What if his fame prevented him from having a meaningful relationship with any of his peers at Hogwarts? Harry was sure he could be content if he only ever had Remus to confide in, but he wanted his experience at Hogwarts to be as grand as his parent's had been—he wanted to be accepted for himself, not just as The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Sadly, Harry knew all too well how cruel children could be. No one had ever been brave enough to befriend him in fear of his massive, bully of a cousin. But he was a wizard—and he would be at a school for magic! Surely the other students, besides the Voldemort's sympathizers of course, were willing to be a bit more open-minded…

"Harry, are you in here?"

A messy head of dark hair popped up from its place inside the album. "Mmm-hmm!"

Remus opened the door to Harry's bedroom, but only stuck his head in, a grin on his face. "Are you hungry? I was going to make us some sandwiches."

Harry giggled at the sight of the older man's disembodied head. "Yes, thank you. I'll help!"

Trailing Remus to the kitchen, Harry pondered whether it would ever be a good time to bring up his previous train of thoughts. Being completely comfortable around Remus had taken very little time and while he understood that he could never say anything to make his newly found family hate him, the boy didn't want to see the sadness in his guardian's eyes, nor feeling the pain in his heart.

But he had the right to know, didn't he? He knew both Remus and Dumbledore were keeping secrets from him—not to hurt the small boy, but because they cared. They couldn't know that he could feel their uneasiness, that he saw right through them…that he knew things about people without them saying a word…

Heaving a small sigh, he decided to ask just this once.

"Remus," Harry began, unsure of how to phrase his thoughts, "may I ask you a question?"

The sandy-haired man smiled congenially, "Of course, Harry."

Fidgeting with his overlarge shirt sleeves, Harry dropped his eyes to the floor. "Could you tell me whatever happened to yours and my dad's other friends?"

The flinch and small burst of panic was just about what the young boy expected to happen. The answer, however, was not.

"Not today, Harry," said Remus, eyes slightly haunted. "But I will someday soon, I promise you." Remus's back stiffened slightly, before he turned to give Harry a very searching look. "Would you keep a secret for me?"

Bobbing his head, Harry rocked back and forth on his tiptoes, now completely fine with meeting Remus's determined-looking gaze.

"You know how I have no control over turning into a wolf, Harry?" A small nod. "Well, there are many witches and wizards who can learn to turn into an animal at will. It's that witches or wizard's animagus."

Of course, the small boy had already sensed this about people, as he was entirely sure that Professor McGonagall could turn into a cat. However, he had no idea how someone went about achieving such a thing.

"Can anyone…?" Harry trailed off, excited at the prospect of turning into something large enough to terrify his cousin and perhaps chase him down the street.

Remus's grin had turned mischievous. "It takes a lot of work and concentration, and many never achieve an actual animagus, but it's technically a skill anyone can acquire." Here, the older man took a small pause, as if working up to a finish. "Your father, Sirius, and Peter all became animagi for me."

_Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs… _"Oh, "said the small boy, suddenly feeling silly for never asking, "they were your nicknames!" Scrunching his nose, Harry pondered the implications…_wolf, rat, dog, steer…_

"That's so…cool," Harry finished lamely, but still smiling brightly. "You never told anyone…?"

"No," Remus stated happily, "it was our secret, along with the map, of course. Though there were a few who I suspect had an idea. Witches and wizards are required to register their animagus form…James, Sirius, and Peter never did. Whenever I would turn into the wolf, they could stay with me. They…didn't want me to suffer alone."

Harry's imagination was set ablaze. Imagine, being able to turn into an animal at will! And his dad had done this so his friend wouldn't have to be alone—had accepted him for this thing he couldn't control and most other's shunned. Despite his father's famed arrogance Remus alluded to so often, Harry could tell he would do anything for those he cared for. This made him immensely happy after years of the Dursleys claiming his father to be an unemployed alcoholic—who obviously drug his mother to the grave with him.

"Do you think I could learn someday?" Harry eagerly questioned.

Remus's eyes, tired as they may be, sparkled with an immense pleasure Harry could not quite identify. "Yes, Harry. I do believe someday you could."


End file.
